The Sly Wife

A Sad Day

I love my house, but it is mine no more.

My husband, Jack, and I built the house when we were married 24 years ago and have remodeled and expanded as our family grew and finances allowed. Now, everything is all paid for and just like I want it.

It is no mansion, but it is a beautiful home. We have a pool and hot tub in the back and overlook a lake that has abundant bird life to watch. And also alligators and snakes: this is the South! The mosquitos and gnats meant we had to screen the pool and hot tub. If you live here, you must come to terms with the local denizens.

I have so many memories here. The excitement of newly weds, maturing as husband and wife, the arrival of our two daughters, memories of their growing up years - that is what is hardest to leave.

But Jack is divorcing me for a younger woman. Now, isn't that a classic. I guess he is in the midst of the famous male mid-life crisis. I am 45 and he is 47. We have two daughters: Barb age 23, newly married, pregnant, and living here in town and Jill aged 21 who is a senior at Duke. Financially we are rocking along great. Jack is CEO of a small but very profitable electronics company. I am only a high school math teacher so I do not have the financial resources of Jack.

I am extracting a heavy toll on Jack financially since he wants out. But he can afford it. He is going to buy out my share of the house. It appraised at $427,000 so he is paying me $213,500 in cash for my share when we sign the final divorce papers in a few weeks. I can't afford to buy him out, which I would love to do. But I just can't financially; I really have no choice. He and his new love are going to live here in my lovely home.

I try to hate her, but I can't really. She is a cute, bubbly little thing who is just sooo in love with Jack. Her hormonal development exceeds her intellectual evolution, bless her heart. She's like a puppy who just peed on the floor. You are furious while cleaning the pee, but you just can't stay mad at her and her bumbling attempts to be a grown woman. Just 24 years old, one year older than Barb. It won't last long.

Now Jack, him I can hate.

Well, it is all ancient history now. This is my last day here with my memories. Jack is at work so I have the house all to myself; just me and my memories. This afternoon I will take my last things to the new apartment and leave my house keys on the table.

Saturday, One Week Later

"Hi, Mom. Wow, something smells great." Barb had popped over to my new apartment for coffee, and I was just pulling her favorite apple turnovers out of the oven. She was the picture of the happy, excited young mother-to-be. It was good to see.

We grabbed cups of coffee and a turnover each and sat at my cramped little dining table. I sighed, I sure did miss the house's beautiful view over the lake. I consumed many a cup of coffee sitting there at home, just looking out the window.

Barb said, "Mom, have you been over to the house?"

"No," I replied. "Why?"

"It stinks. It is awful!"

I arched my eyebrows at Barb. "Stinks? What do you mean?"

"It stinks. You know, like malodorous, putrid, rotten. Dad and his bimbo are going nuts. They have had all kinds of people out there cleaning and trying to find what is making the stink."

Neither of my daughters were adjusting well to the divorce. They were furious with Jack and despised his fiancee. They both called her bimbo to her face and refused to use her real name. Neither girl planned to attend the nuptials.

"Barb, sweetie, you and Jill are going to have to come to terms with this divorce and Jack remarrying. It will make your life more pleasant."

"Not a chance. Jill and I are furious at how Dad treated you."

"I am fine. Don't worry about me."

I changed subjects. "So they can't find what is making the odor. Is it really that bad?"

"Yeah, it is really foul. They have moved to a motel, and the bimbo is looking at new houses. Says she won't ever live there."

We moved on to other more pleasant topics for the rest of our visit.

Final Paperwork

The next Monday afternoon, Jack and I and our lawyers met to sign the divorce paperwork and make the final financial transfers. We rose after the sad proceedings ending our 24 years of marriage and said our goodbyes.

As I was starting to the door, I said to Jack, "Barb, says something died in the walls of the house or something, and the smell is awful."

Jack turned red in the face and exploded, "You can't believe it. We had to move to a motel. My fiancee is looking at new houses right now. Says there is no way she will live there, ever. I gotta get her off my back. The damn real estate agent says we can't even put the house on the market stinking like that. I don't know what I am going to do with that damn thing."

"Jack, you know I love that house. I just can't afford to buy you out with my salary. I could maybe offer you $100,000 for it from our settlement. That is not even reasonable for a $427,000 house I realize, but that is all I can afford."

Jack stopped dead in his tracks. "Really? You know the place stinks to high heaven?"

"Well, school is over at the end of this week. I have all summer to work on it. There has to be a cause, and I have three months to track it down. It may take a while, but I will fix it."

I paused for a beat. "Jack, it really wasn't a good idea to try to move your new love into our house. She would never be happy there and will eventually resent it. Buy your fiancee her own home."

"I guess you are right. Done, it is a deal. I'll sell the house back to you for a $100,000. I have to get that albatross from around my neck somehow."

I turned to my lawyer and asked, "Can you handle that for us?"

"Sure. I'll have all the paperwork ready to sign Wednesday afternoon."

A Week Later

I am back in my home that I own now. All of the windows are open. I have every fan I could borrow flushing fresh air into the house. I have scrubbed, chloroxed, and lysoled, and the stench is gone.

Barb came in for another of our increasingly routine and delightful mother-daughter morning chats.

"Hey Mom! What did you do? It smells great in here."

"Just a lot of elbow grease and disinfectant."

We grabbed our coffees and settled down looking out over our beautiful lake. We silently watched the ancient natural drama of a magnificent Louisiana heron stalking stealthily through the shallows. They are sly and deadly hunters who should not be underestimated, especially if you are a fish. The heron stuck swiftly, seized an unsuspecting fish, and then with a few shakes of his head gulped down his frantically wriggling prize.

"That is always something to see!" Barb exclaimed with a smile.

"Well, what was causing that awful smell?" she asked, changing subjects.

I replied, "I am still not sure. All of the drapes and the carpets had to go. They were ruined. But now, everything else finally seems to be okay."

Barb was watching me, but I looked away refusing to meet her eyes.

"Mom, is there something you are not telling me?"

I looked back at Barb, grinning. "Yes, there is. My last day here, I bought 25 lb. of fresh shrimp with heads on from the seafood market. The drapery rods are hollow with screw-on ends. I drilled a few small holes in the top of each rod, stuffed the rods with the shrimp, and then screwed the ends back on with plumbers tape so nothing could leak. Oh my, nothing stinks like rotting shrimp."

Barb stared at me wide eyed and speechless.

I went on, "With these 12-foot ceilings, nobody ever thought to look up at the rods as the source of the smell. I was just being malicious and petty; I never expected this delightful outcome."

Barb, covered her mouth laughing. 'Oh Momma, that was so naughty but brilliant!"